Chapter Seven
The Isle of Lume
Bane lay on the bed, clad only in his trousers, and clasped his temples as he fought the pounding headache the potion had clearly not soothed, grinding his teeth, his eyes clenched shut. Mirra crept into the cabin, her heart torn with pity. She longed to help him, but settled on the floor to watch him.
Soon he rolled onto his side with a groan, sensed her presence and opened his eyes a slit, groaning again. “Are you an imbecile?”
“No.”
“You tempt my anger, you know that? Next you will start whining about how grateful you are, and how much you like me.” He snarled the last words.
“But I do. You did not have to save me, and now you suffer because of it.”
“You are wrong. I did it because my father said he would kill you and I said he would not.” He rubbed his brow and ran a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the pain. “You are a bone between two dogs, witch. As for the pain, I am accustomed to it.”
Mirra shook her head. “I have no wish to die, but there would be no shame in losing to your father.”
“It is not about shame, idiot. It is about power. Now get out and leave me alone.”
Mirra obeyed, although she hated to let him suffer alone, she did not wish to upset him. She sat in the passage outside his door, huddled in the blanket. Benton found her there later, and gave her an old blue robe. She thanked him and put it on.
He said, “The storm’s dying down at last. Come and eat with us.”
Bane’s cabin door was yanked open, and Benton fled. Bane glared at her with bloodshot eyes, took her arm and pulled her inside. His lips were unnaturally red, and his black mane contrasted starkly with his alabaster skin. He looked ill, and her healer’s longing to alleviate suffering burgeoned, as it always did in his proximity. The evil seeped into her from his hand, making her flinch. He pushed her against the bed and paced the worn carpet.
“What do you think this is? A damned leisure cruise?”
“No.”
“Anyone would think so, the way you and that scruffy traitor carry on. Stray too far, girl, and you will die. Like you nearly did with the water demon, and yet you are so monumentally stupid you still go swanning off whenever you feel like it.” He stopped in front of her and placed his fists on his hips. Mirra leant away from his anger, and he raked her with a scornful look. “You have already given me one headache too many, and I tire of it. Next time you wander off and a demon finds you, so be it. I will not rescue you again. Understand?”
She nodded, gazing up at his drawn face. The headache was obviously still bothering him, and impulsively she said, “Let me help you.”
He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “You cannot, remember?”
“I could make a medicine for you.”
“With what? I do not see a witch’s bag.”
“There must be herbs in the ship’s stores I could use.”
Bane’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed to consider this. “Very well, do it.”
Mirra’s heart sang with joy as she trotted through the rolling ship to the galley. A twinge of trepidation made her pause, for she was away from him again. Was that why he had agreed, to see if she would ignore his warning? She shrugged it off, determined not to let her fear of demons keep her from her calling. At last, he was going to let her help him, and this was her chance to prove her good intentions. Once she had shown him her ability to sooth his pain with her healer’s skills, surely he would soften his demeanour towards her and accept her as the friend she wanted so desperately to be?
It might seem strange to those who hated him for his evil ways, but healers made no judgements about such things; it was not their place. A healer’s mission in life was to help others, no matter who they were. She rummaged in the cupboards, finding a selection of herbs, some of which were used for healing. After several minutes, she found what she needed and steeped the dried flowers in boiling water. She made it strong to impress him, added cold water to it, and hurried back to his cabin. Bane watched her from the bunk. As she approached with the cup, he sat up and indicated the table.
“Put it there.”
Perplexed, she obeyed. “It is not hot.”
He shouted, “Mord! Get your ugly hide in here!”
Mord appeared in the doorway, cringing. “Yes, Lord?”
“Bring me the man she has befriended.”
The troll left, and Mirra wondered what Bane planned to do with Benton. He regarded her coolly, his hard expression telling her nothing, and the silence grew strained as they waited. She stood by the wall, bracing herself against the ship’s rolling, while he sat swinging a leg, seemingly relaxed, but for the lines between his brows that told of the pain in his head. At last, Mord returned with a frightened-looking Benton, who hesitated on the threshold.
Bane snorted. “I know he is too afraid to come near me, so give him the cup.”
Since he had to come within touching distance of the Demon Lord to fetch it, Mord almost crawled to the table. He snatched up the cup and retreated to the door, thrusting it at Benton, who took it as if it was a poisonous snake.
Bane nodded at the terrified soldier. “Drink it.”
Mirra protested, “But it is for you.”
“I know, stupid. That is why he is going to drink it.”
“But he has no pain.”
“I do not care.” He scowled at Benton. “Drink it!”
The soldier gulped the potion, his hands shaking. Mirra gazed at Bane in confusion as he watched Benton, a slow smile tugging at his lips. The soldier shifted under the Demon Lord’s cold eyes, his own fixed on the floor. Mirra went over to him and laid a soothing hand on his arm.
“What was that?” he whispered, darting Bane a furtive glance.
“Just something for pain. It will do nothing to you.”
He relaxed a little. “Why did he want me to drink it?”
“I do not know. I made it for him.”
“Oh. I see.” He sighed with obvious relief.
“What?”
Benton leant closer and whispered, “He thinks it’s poison.”
Mirra turned to Bane in surprise and disappointment, blurting the words Benton had whispered so confidentially in her ear. “You thought it was poison?”
He looked exasperated. “Do not try to pretend it was not. Your innocent act does not fool me. You obviously do not care for this man as much as you pretend. You did not even try to stop him drinking it. Admirable. Even healers are prepared to make sacrifices to win this war, it seems. I will enjoy watching him die. How long does it take?”
“It was not poison, Bane. It has already worked, but Benton has no pain, so he feels nothing.”
Bane swung a leg, smiling. “So, it is a slow-acting poison then. Doubtless a painful death awaits him in a few hours’ time. How do you feel, soldier?”
Benton bowed, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Lord, I’ve always had a knee that troubled me, an old wound, you see. The ache has completely gone, so I would say I feel very well.”
Bane’s brow furrowed, and his smile vanished. “So you are in collusion. You think she will give you the antidote. I am certain she would, if she was able, but I will not let her.” He studied Benton, who remained blank-faced. “Well, you obviously think you can outsmart me, even now that I have divined your scheme. I would like to see you try. Mord, lash him to the mast.”
The troll and soldier retreated, and Mirra said, “I would never harm you.”
“If that was true, it would make you worse than a fool, witch. It would make you a traitor. I am your enemy, the Black Lord’s son, about to unleash him upon your world. I have beaten you, dropped you in a cesspit, and tortured you. You should hate me.”
“I do not. Healers do not make judgements. Our only purpose is to heal. We cannot turn away a sick person because he is a robber or even a murderer. We are not allowed. It does not matter who you are or what you have done. I will always try to heal you.”
“No.” Mirra shook her head, ignoring the palpable menace he exuded. Her firm assertion seemed to anger him even more, and his hands clenched.
“I should kill you now, before you try again.” He swung away, staggering a little as the ship rolled. “But I told my father you would not succeed, so if I kill you I will not be able to prove that point. I have to wait until you try, then defeat you. This is only your first attempt, and a stupid one at that. Did you really think I would consume any foul concoction of yours? You will have to think up a better plan, stupid girl.”
Bane shoved her aside and left, returning a few minutes later with a length of rope. He bound her hands and tied her to the table.
“Now you will not be able to feed your friend the antidote, and by morning he will be dead.” He appeared to search for some flicker of remorse in her expression, and when she showed none, he shook his head with a rueful smile. “You are good, I have to admit. Is this what you were trained to do? To be such a consummate liar and actress that you would be able to fool me? This little battle may even become interesting yet.”
Mirra could only shake her head. His suspicion hurt and his accusations confused her. Her only training had been in the art of healing, learning to use her power to sooth pain and mend the afflicted flesh of the injured and diseased. She had never told a lie and did not know how to act at all, but he seemed to find some other, devious purpose in her presence here, even though her capture had been nothing but an accident. She had not even known of his existence until she met him, and she wondered why Elder Mother had not told her about him. It seemed odd that such an important part of her education had been so completely neglected.
Bane flopped down on the bed, tossing and turning as the pain hammered in his head before falling into a restless sleep. Mirra curled up on the floor and listened to the ship’s creaking while she tried to ease the ropes’ pinching on her wrists. Bane had knotted them tightly, and soon her hands grew numb. Before long, her arms ached unbearably, and she bit her tongue to prevent herself from calling out to him for help. He would be furious if she woke him from his restless doze.
Demon Lord Page 37